Two
DESMOND
Pain.
Not the kind mortals complain about after stubbing a toe or sleeping wrong.
Real pain.
Ancient pain.
The sort that tears through flesh, bone, and soul alike.
Three hundred years on this miserable planet and I have never experienced anything like it.
I grip the edge of my seat as another wave crashes through me.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Magic sparks beneath my skin.
Unstable.
Wild.
The glamour I'd carefully maintained for decades flickers.
Then fails completely.
Shit.
My horns push through first.
Curved spirals that mark me for exactly what I am.
My tail lashes violently behind me.
And the pressure building between my shoulders becomes unbearable as my wings burst free.
Three centuries hiding among humans, and tonight of all nights, I lose control.
The curse is happening.
I'd always known this day would come.
Demons like me aren't meant to be alone forever.
Eventually, the magic turns inward.
The loneliness rots us from the inside.
Without our fated mates, we lose ourselves.
Become monsters.
I'd spent decades searching.
Seven continents.
Countless countries, cities.
Tens of thousands of humans.
Nothing.
No mate.
No salvation.
No hope.
Why would the Fates favor a creature like me, anyway?
I am a monster.
A Demon.
A thing mothers warn their children about.
A nightmare wrapped in flesh.
So every night, I ride the train.
Not because I need transportation.
Demons can travel far more efficiently than humans.
No.
I ride because it eases the loneliness.
Because sitting among people pretending to live ordinary lives somehow makes the emptiness inside me quieter.
Until tonight.
Another stab of agony nearly drops me to my knees.
I suck in a sharp breath.
And that's when I hear them.
Three young males.
Loud.
Drunk.
Stupid.
They smell of cheap beer and bad decisions.
“Come on, man!”
“What's with the costume?”
“Nice threads, Dracula!”
“Comic-Con's next month.”
Normally, I'd ignore them.
Three hundred years teaches patience.
But tonight?
Tonight, I'm barely holding myself together.
The taunts roll off me.
But then one of them touches me—kicks out at me.
And something inside me snaps.
I stand.
All seven feet of me.
The fools finally notice the horns.
The wings.
The tail.
Fear floods their scents.
Good.
They should fear the things that go bump in the night.
I open my mouth and release the sound my kind have used for thousands of years.
A roar.
Pure Demon.
Ancient.
Terrifying.
The boys flee.
The train car falls silent.
And then the pain returns.
Harder.
Crueler.
I collapse.
This is it.
After three centuries, this is how I die.
On a commuter train.
Pathetic.
But then, there’s softness.
A touch against my wrist.
Warm fingers.
Gentle.
I force my eyes open.
And I see an absolute angel.
Pale skin.
Impossibly long, dark hair streaked with gold.
Beautiful brown eyes filled with concern.
And curves that make something primal inside me sit up and take notice.
She's speaking, but I can't hear the words.
Because all I can concentrate on is her scent.
Beneath the antiseptic smell of soap—and yes, I quickly clock her attire.
She’s wearing scrubs, so maybe my Angel is a nurse or doctor.
But there’s also something warm and sweet—something tempting.
Like vanilla orchids and sun-ripe berries.
I take another breath, long and deep, and my whole world stops because beneath everything, she smells like—oh fuck—she smells like mine.
My heart thuds inside my chest.
Impossible.
After three hundred years.
After all this time.
After giving up hope.
The Fates have finally answered.
She's mine.
Mine.
Not because I deserve her or because I'm particularly worthy—I’m not.
I’ve done things that would turn most people’s hair white.
But it doesn’t matter. None of it.
Because the multiverse itself has declared this beautiful, soft creature is mine.
And I will hold on to her with everything I have the moment she says yes.
The beast inside me, the one clawing at my sanity for decades, suddenly becomes still.
Peace settles over me for the first time in centuries.
My mate.
My beautiful, curvy mate.
And she's touching me.
Actually touching me.
Not screaming or running.
Not recoiling in horror.
She's worried.
For me.
The monster.
Emotion lodges painfully in my throat.
I haven't had someone care whether I lived or died in a very long time.
“It’s you. Mate,” I rasp.
She blinks.
“Excuse me?”
She’s adorable confused.
And somehow that’s perfect.
Mine.
I reach for her.
I just need one more touch.
One more second of contact.
But my body finally gives out.
The last thing I feel before darkness claims me is her soft body catching me.
And the last thing I think is—thank the Fates.
My hot girl mate finally found me.